


Chance

by doctor__idiot



Series: 12 Days of Wincestmas 2017 [3]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M, Mechanic Dean, Meet-Cute, Professor Sam
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-07
Updated: 2018-01-07
Packaged: 2019-02-23 14:50:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,227
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13192392
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/doctor__idiot/pseuds/doctor__idiot
Summary: A truck rolls up behind him just as Sam is about to call Triple A. The driver pokes his head out the window, cutting the engine. “Need help?”





	Chance

Sam kicks the tire of the old Chevy with one last hearty curse, then slumps against the driver side window, wiping at his snow-wet face. He digs his phone out of his pocket and types an e-mail, grimacing all the while. Class will just have to be canceled for the day. He is still miles from campus and there is no way he’ll make it in time, not even if something miraculous happens.

Speaking of miracles, a truck rolls up behind him just as Sam is about to call Triple A. The driver pokes his head out the window, cutting the engine. “Need help?”

“Nothing much to help with.” Sam shrugs. “Gotta call assistance so I can get it to the a shop.”

The man opens the driver door and clambers down from the pick-up, landing in the snow with a crunch. He is wearing sturdy work books, jeans, and a heavy leather jacket. Snowflakes begin to gather in his spiky blond hair as he makes his way over to Sam.

“I could take a look if you want.”

Sam frowns. “No offense but I think I’d rather have a mechanic look at it.”

The man breaks into a grin and Sam is briefly thrown for a loop. Firstly, because he seems to have missed the joke, and secondly, because the stranger’s smile is blindingly beautiful.

He extends his hand to Sam. “Hi,” he says, “I’m Dean. I’m a mechanic.”

“You–” Sam blinks at him dumbly, taking his hand on autopilot. It is pleasantly warm despite the chilly weather.

Dean shrugs. “I’s just on my way to work. I work at the garage in town. Now, would you like me to take a look?”

Sam is too stunned by both the coincidence and Dean’s handsome face, his confident stance, and the wet glint of snow caught in his eyelashes to question the exchange.

He shakes himself out of it, gesturing to the hood of the car that’s already coated in a thin sheet of snow again. “Knock yourself out.”

“I gotta admit,” Dean confesses as he moves past Sam to pop the hood. “I got an angle here. Saw the car and thought _damn_ , that’s a beaut.”

Sam can’t help himself, he laughs at the expression of excitement on the man’s face. “Yeah, I guess.”

“How did you manage to get hold of a ’67 Impala? The four-door version ain’t exactly easy to come by.”

Sam leans against the side of the car with his arms crossed, letting the falling snow soak his clothes. He is shivering slightly in nothing but his wool sweater but he can’t be bothered to grab his jacket from the trunk. He watches Dean as he bangs around in the engine compartment.

“Didn’t buy her,” he explains, “She’s a hand-me-down from my dad.”

“Guy’s got good taste,” Dean remarks, sounding somewhat muffled.

Sam gives a short laugh. He rubs his own arms, his fingers slowly growing numb. He can feel the clamminess from the snow against the back of his neck where his hair is already clinging wetly. “Yeah, well. I don’t always think so. Sometimes she’s more trouble than she’s worth.”

Dean pops his head out from under the hood, regarding Sam with an unreadable expression. Sam nearly flinches.

“She can hear you, you know? That’s why she’s not behaving. You ain’t treatin’ her right.” He dives back under, leaving Sam to work through what he’s just said.

Sam barks a laugh. “She’s not animate, you know.”

This time, only Dean’s hand emerges from the hood, index finger waggling in Sam’s direction. “Wrong. She’s a lady and she needs to be treated like one.”

Before Sam can even think of a response to that, Dean slams the hood close. There’s a smudge of black oil on the side of his neck, just as his fingertips are stained. He wipes them on his jeans.

“Alright,” he says, “I got the parts at the shop, I think, but I gotta tow her. Let me get the cable.”

Sam finally resigns himself to climbing back into the driver’s seat, warming his frozen hands between his thighs while he waits.

The drive to the repair shop is slow-going, not least due to the increasingly heavy snowfall. It is becoming hard to see. The lack of heating is quickly making him shiver and half an hour later, once they’ve arrived, he can’t feel his toes. The waiting area of the repair shop is toasty warm at least and he waits until Dean joins him and puts together the paper work.

“I got another car to work on before I can get to your baby,” Dean says as he slides Sam a pen to sign the admission form, “So it might take a while.”

“That’s okay. I already left note at work.”

“Where’s that then?” Dean asks, making obvious smalltalk but his interest seems genuine.

Sam says, “College in town,” sliding the pen back over after he’s scrawled his signature, “I teach Latin and history.”

“Latin?” Dean repeats incredulously, his hand hovering over the papers.

Sam’s laugh is self-conscious. “Yeah, I know.”

“No, no,” Dean shakes his head, “That’s pretty cool.”

Sam shrugs, feels himself blush a little. Maybe it won’t be visible with the cold outside. “Not exactly a hit at parties.”

“Go to many parties then?”

Sam laughs at Dean’s obvious sarcasm. “No. Not at all.”

Dean grins at him and there’s that feeling again. It’s unnerving how much Sam reacts to such a little thing but he has to dig his hands into the pockets of his chino pants to keep them from shaking.

“Anyway,” he says, “Thanks for doing this for me on such short notice.”

Dean hesitates and Sam is about to ask whether he said something wrong but then Dean leans over the counter into his space. Sam is rooted to the spot.

“Tell you what,” Dean says in a mock-conspiratorial voice, “I’ll have your precious beauty done in two hours and I’ll give you a discount if you let me drive her.”

Sam remains silent, processing, then a laugh bursts out of him. “Sure,” he says, decision coming to him easily. Somehow everything about this man seems easy. “Deal.”

“Sweet,” Dean grins and Sam thinks he would do just about anything to keep that happy excitement on Dean’s face.

“Is that the reason you stopped then? And here I was thinking you’re simply a good Samaritan.”

Dean purses his lips. “Well yeah, sure. I saw the car. And I saw you,” he adds casually, making Sam forget how to breathe for a moment. “So I guess I’m not all that good.”

“Right.” Not Sam’s most eloquent comeback. No one ever said he’s good at flirting. And Dean was definitely flirting.

“Tell you another thing,” Dean says, tiny smile hiding in the corner of his mouth. “You only pay for the parts and I’ll fix your car for free if you go on a date with me.”

Sam could only stare. “Can you do that?”

“Is that what you’re worried about? Playing by the rules?”

Sam usually is, yes. But Dean’s demeanor is growing hesitant now, smile dimming as if he is thinking he might have overstepped or misinterpreted the situation and Sam can’t have that.

He leans forward, elbows on the counter between them. “What time do you get off?”


End file.
